Student Blogs

NOLA: Spirituality

One of the things that surprised me most about NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana) was how significantly religion and spirituality permeate the culture. The iconography of Catholicism can be seen everywhere, from the steeple of St. Louis Cathedral to small, plastic busts of the Virgin Mary sold in French Quarter gift shops. I, personally, was looking for a dashboard Jesus, because I have to drive my mother’s beat-up minivan to work when I get home. I need Dashboard Jesus. Evidently, no one is selling Dashboard Jesus.

Catholicism is a religion rooted in vivid images and strong symbolism; namely, the sacrament of the Eucharist. When you drink the wine, you are literally drinking the blood of Christ. When you eat the wafer of unleavened bread, you are literally eating the body of Christ. Anne Rice capitalizes on the richness of a Catholic relationship with God to create an unsettling, supernatural world - a world where a young man’s brother claims God speaks directly to him; a world where the death of this brother elicits such grief and guilt that the young man dies into a life of damnation. This, of course, is Louis’s story in Interview with the Vampire.

“Then he told me about the visions. Both St. Dominic and the Blessed Virgin Mary had come to him in the oratory. They had told him he was to sell all our property in Louisiana, everything we owned, and use the money to do God’s work in France.”
— Anne Rice, "Interview with the Vampire"

Yet, voodoo traditions still manage to share New Orleans with the Catholic Church. Voodoo dolls and beads are often sold at the very same gift shops that charge $7.99 for your plastic Virgin. At St. Louis Cemetery, a predominantly French Catholic burial ground, the most visited grave is that of renowned Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau. But while the mingling of these traditions creates the fascinating character of the city we see today, it also indicates a dark blemish on NOLA’s history. The French brought Catholicism here with the nuns of the Ursuline Convent. The West Africans brought voodoo here on slave ships. Much of Louisiana, as we’ll come to find at the Whitney Plantation, was built on the backs of slaves.

Just as voodoo/hoodoo intertwines with Catholicism, life and death seem to shake hands here. When we visited Lafayette Cemetery in the Garden District, the sky was gray and ominous. A gentle breeze made the tree branches rattle like skeleton bones. Somewhere off in the distance, a church bell tolled somberly. And all around, the above-ground graves were marked by decay and overgrowth. Little vampire Claudia chooses this place to hunt her victims at one point in the book, which I find quite poetic. She, herself, is the epitome of death in life, and vice versa. A child who can never die, but cannot be considered truly alive, either.

“And she had asked to enter the cemetery of the suburb city of Lafayette and there roam the high marble tombs in search of those desperate men who, having no place else to sleep, spend what little they have on a bottle of wine, and crawl into a rotting vault.”
— "Interview with the Vampire"

In New Orleans, being alive among the dead is inescapable. After all, 250-year-old corpses lie, not six feet beneath the ground but, rather, in a crumbling mausoleum right beside you. But I feel as though this place has a particular gift for embracing it, rather than letting death ruin its vibe. Mardi Gras beads hang from weeping angel statues and, indeed, the famed jazz funerals here are perfect representations of joy and celebration, despite the sorrow that comes with death.

Next time, we’ll be exploring that more joyous side of NOLA – the music, the partying, the beignets (!!!) – and meeting Ignatius J. Reilly of A Confederacy of Dunces, who thinks the city is home to the absolute scum of humanity. It’s going to be a blast.

I love this place.

MEAL OF THE MOMENT: FRIED CATFISH

Fried catfish makes my heart sing. If you are ever in NOLA, swing by Ray’s on the Ave and get the $5 Friday special – it’s fried catfish with potato salad and sweet peas. You will never have any reason to be sad ever again. Fried catfish was my introduction to southern fried food, and what a fantastic first fried food (quadruple alliteration there) it was. It’s also amazing in a Poboy which, if you’re unaware, is a big sandwich with pickles, mayo, tomato (if you want it, which I don’t), and your choice of meat. It’s suh good.

But Morgan, you ask, why is your Meal of the Moment for “NOLA: Spirituality” fried catfish? Is there a significance? No. No, there is not. I considered making this Meal of the Moment the actual Eucharist but I’m 97% positive that’s #sacrilegious. So...catfish.

Cookbookpacking

I am duty-bound by the unofficial laws of the internet to annoy you with a post about food (#basic). Bear with me.

Dining is central to any travel experience, and this is especially true of New Orleans, where the smell of seafood clings to your clothes wherever you go. While walking around the French Quarter, I am constantly tempted by the scent of something delicious carried out into the humid streets by a blast of AC. More often than not, I give in.

Creole and Cajun food reign supreme in New Orleans, and though this has been wonderful for my palate, my figure is beginning to suffer. But I'll worry about that later. I've also spent some time exploring other cuisines, and so here are some of my recommendations to future bookpackers.

1. Yum's Restaurant

3059 LA-1
Grand Isle, LA 70358

I have to credit Yum's for my awakening (pun intended) to the world of Louisianan cooking. Here began my love affair with the po' boy. For anyone unfortunate enough to be ignorant of this marvelous food item, a po' boy is a sandwich that contains some type of meat—typically of the seafood variety—and can be dressed with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, or whatever other accoutrements your heart may desire. The cooks at Yum's make a mean catfish po' boy, but their shrimp po' boys are to die for, as Andrew himself will attest to.

At first glance, Yum's may not look like much. You may hardly even notice it while driving through Grand Isle, but you'll be sorry if you miss it. Yum's is the perfect place to come to after a day of reading on the beach and swimming in the Gulf. It is always filled with lively locals and vacationers, and it's not hard to strike up a conversation with another group of customers—someone even invited us to visit his sugarcane farm.

In short, Yum's is a must for any visitor to Grand Isle.

2. Boutte's Bayou Restaurant

5134 Boutte Street
Lafitte, LA 70067

We lunched at Boutte's during our drive up from Grand Isle to New Orleans. Like Yum's, Boutte's may appear deceptively unassuming. Make your way up the creaking steps, though, and you're in for an experience that will make you want to stay forever. Boutte's confirmed my undying love for po' boys. Crabmeat may make for a messy sandwich, but the mess is half the fun. The flavor is the other half.

For those of you who may want to diversify beyond the po' boy realm, Boutte's crawfish pies and seafood gumbo come highly recommended by Alfredo. Though I don't have a picture of it, the baked potato (fully dressed) is also an excellent menu item. So if you're ever in New Orleans, be sure to drive down to Lafitte for some fantastic Creole cooking!

3. Mother's Restaurant

401 Poydras St
New Orleans, LA 70130

Mother's is the self-proclaimed home of the "World's Best Baked Ham." Unfortunately, none of us ordered baked ham, and so I can't say if Mother's is deserving of that title. What I can and will say, however, is that their jambalaya is nothing short of inspirational. In fact, I've been annoying everyone for days by singing "Jambalaya" to the tune of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" (I heard there was a secret dish / that Creoles make, and they use some fish, / but you don't really care for seafood, do you?). The sides are surprisingly tasty—I had no idea that green beans and tomatoes could taste so good.

If you want a place that isn't too fancy but serves amazing Creole food at a good price, then Mother's is a great choice. Try that baked ham or get some seafood, but be ready to burst into song. ♪ Jambalaya, jambalaya, jambalaya ... ♪

4. Ray's on the Ave.

1139 St Bernard Ave
New Orleans, LA 70116

Ray's is a little place up in the Tremé run by some of the nicest people you will ever meet. And these people make some of the nicest food you will ever eat. I'm sure you're sick of hearing about po' boys at this point, but I need to extol the virtues of Ray's alligator sausage (you read correctly) po' boy. Its praises cannot be sung enough. As with any new type of meat, I was hesitant. I'm sure many of us have racked up the courage to try something new, only to be bitterly disappointed in the end. Not so with the alligator. Never smile at a crocodile, but always enjoy a gator po' boy.

5. The Golden Chip

537 Toulouse St
New Orleans, LA 70130

Golden Chips has 4.5/5 stars on Yelp for a reason. Their fries are amazing. Their chicken is amazing. Their sauces are amazing. Incidentally, I highly recommend the Creolaise sauce and the aioli sauce.

If you're wandering around the French Quarter and looking for a place to eat that won't drain your wallet but will fill your stomach, Golden Chips is the place for you. It's only a block or so away from Jackson Square, and I definitely suggest ordering takeout and picnicking. Find a bench, read a book, enjoy the music, eat some chicken. What more can you want from life?

6. Royal Sushi & Bar

1913 Royal St
New Orleans, LA 70116

Up in the Faubourg Marigny, Royal Sushi is a great place to go if you want to take a break from Creole/Cajun food. While there are several great Vietnamese places in the Garden District (the pho at Lilly's Cafe is delicious), New Orleans suffers from a dearth of Japanese venues, and so finding Royal Sushi was serendipitous. For a college student, instant noodles and packaged ramen are staples, but nothing compares to actual ramen from an actual restaurant. I chose a spicy tonkotsu broth with beef and added bok choy and kimchi, but I encourage you to be creative and come up with your own combinations! The handrolls are scrumptious as well, and if you want a good dessert, the red bean ice cream and fried cheesecake won't disappoint!

7. Borgne

601 Loyola Ave
New Orleans, LA 70113

Looking at the menu, the prices at Borgne can seem a little higher than at other restaurants, but once you realize just how much food is on your plate, the prices will begin to make sense. Once you take your first bite, cost will become a forgotten issue.

I'm always hesitant to order sliders because they are often disappointing in portion and taste. Borgne's catfish sliders, however, are an exception; they prove that catfish is the king of all fish. Red beans and rice may sound like a simple dish, but Borgne has mastered this simplicity; this Monday lunch special even comes with a fried pork chop. Borgne also knows how to make bread, shown by their marvelous crawfish ciabatta. The presentation alone is alluring, the taste even more so. As for the pork empanadas, the flavor of the sauce is like a curtain that slowly lifts to reveal the taste of pork. I don't know what sauce they used, but it contains just the right amount of horseradish to clear my sinuses and get my heart racing.

8. Creole Creamery

4924 Prytania Street
New Orleans, LA 70115

In an act of gluttonous foolishness great enough to have been committed by the piggish Ignatius J. Reilly, main character in John Kennedy Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces, I attempted to complete the Tchoupitoulas Challenge at Creole Creamery. I maintain that I might be able to eat eight scoops of ice cream with eight toppings, but the addition of an entire can of whipped cream (disgusting even in concept) made the task practically impossible for me. Within a few minutes of eating, the sundae turned into a soupy mass of colors.

Unfeasible challenges aside, Creole Creamery is a great place to stave off the humid heat with a cold treat. Their flavors are fantastic, especially lavender honey. Lavender may be a contentious ice cream flavor, but I am a firm believer in trying new things. If you're a more conventional person, I suggest you order a scoop of mango sorbet. If you can find an open seat (it's always crowded), relax, eat your ice cream, and enjoy the fact that there are still ice cream stores that haven't become hipster traps.

9. Café du Monde

800 Decatur Street
New Orleans, LA 70116

A beignet

A beignet

No post about food in New Orleans is complete without mentioning Café du Monde, home of the fabled beignet in all its sugary glory. There is no way to sufficiently describe the joy of eating one of these divine confections, so I won't even try.

10. Meril

424 Girod Street
New Orleans, LA 70130

I've saved Meril, one of Emeril Lagasse's restaurants in New Orleans, for the end. Why? Because Meril is amazing. Though not a Creole or Cajun restaurant, Meril still draws from regional cuisine; the clam linguine and shrimp tacos are great examples of this. In this way, Meril is a true New Orleans restaurant; it combines the old with the new in a process of constant evolution.

But enough philosophizing. I'm here to talk about food. Let me just say that I've never had better pasta. As for the shrimp tacos, sorcery was undoubtedly involved in their making. The different flavors involved—shrimp, lemon, corn flour tortilla, sambal mayo, onion, cilantro—are perfectly mixed with explosive force. Taking the first bite was a transformative experience—I ran the gamut of flavors and emotions. As for the chorizo flatbread, in Alfredo's own words, "the bread is flat but the flavor ain't."

The desserts deserve their own paragraph. Between four people (Christopher, Alfredo, Ogechi, and myself), we ordered six desserts: banana cream pie, a chocolate crepe, salted caramel ice cream, cotton candy, raspberry lemonade sorbet, and pecan pie (both Ogechi and I broke into incredulous laughter when the check came). It's amazing that a classy establishment would serve cotton candy; clearly, Meril isn't afraid to have fun.

The rest of my trip will be dedicated to finding a restaurant good enough to knock Meril off my "favorite" pedestal. It may be a futile endeavor.

Para-NOLA

New Orleans - A Hub for Supernatural Fiction

Anne Rice chose the perfect setting for her novel Interview with the Vampire. Not only do the southern parts of the United States provide a rich history, but they also showcase weather and natural disasters that bring with them a lingering feeling that danger is on the horizon. This provides the perfect atmosphere for a supernatural narrative, especially literature focusing on vampires. However, while the south is ideal with it’s history and geographical features, the culture is what makes Louisiana specifically perfect for this novel. Louisiana is essentially an extension of the French culture, and aspects of “French-ness” can be found all over the state, though especially in New Orleans. Sensuality and sexuality, nightlife, overindulgence, and extravagance; the aspects of French culture that coincide with common themes of vampirism, and what made Louisiana the perfect choice for the setting of this novel.

Ghosts of the Past

History is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of all of the ways Louisiana is creepy. With slavery and the Civil War, both which brought a lot of death, likely baring restless and vengeful souls, you could imagine that every inch of this state is haunted. If not death from these two causes, then likely from disease. Claudia's mother in Interview with the Vampire had died of Yellow Fever when Louis found them. Then in more recent history, there have been multiple hurricanes, the biggest and most famous being Hurricane Katrina. With these many death bearing situations, it seems to me that there is a strong likelihood of haunting in Louisiana. History is important in breathing life into the supernatural. Ideas of otherworldly creatures don't just appear without provocation from somewhere.

As if this idea was not already pounded into my brain, it would be. The first thing we were met with upon arriving in New Orleans was a protest against the removal of the statue of Gen. Robert E. Lee from his pedestal in Lee Circle.

 

Naturally Creepy

The nature of Louisiana alone is enough to make it the perfect setting for a vampire fiction, or any supernatural fiction really. The humidity that breaks down wood buildings over time, decaying houses across the state. The overgrowth of foliage, that makes it seem almost as if the greenery in Louisiana is alive, and with a mind of its own to overtake the man-made structures that have been imposed on its land. The Spanish moss is beautiful, though eerily so. The wrought iron railings in the French Quarter, and the fences in the Garden District, that also look as if they are alive. Twisting and turning creepily when casting shadows, and tall and imposing to keep those unwanted out. Then there is the prominence of the Catholic religion and the raised cemeteries, but we'll get to that later.

The Anne Rice house (second row, first picture) is a great example of the animated foliage. The trees look like they are moving, coming out to grab you, and the roots are eating away at the curb and the brick sidewalk, spilling out into the street. The American Horror Story: Coven house (first row, last two pictures) is only a few blocks away from Rice's previous home, and it is so beautiful, but at the same time you can imagine that it might be haunted.

Religion & Death

Like most things, vampire folklore has evolved over time. In the ancient times there were demons: creatures of darkness, fallen angels by the Christian belief, that would possess members of the community and reek havoc. Though this idea of demonic possession still floats around in certain religious societies, it has also branched off and evolved into the creation of another demonic creature: the vampire. The folklore and religion that gave breath to this “creature of the night” is heavily rooted in European culture, so it is understandable that the further into the future and more westernized this idea becomes, the European roots will live on in modern depictions. As Louisiana was an extension of French culture in the new world, it makes sense that if these creatures were to travel across the Atlantic Ocean, they would end in this part of America.

If you have ever been in an old European Catholic church, you would know that they are not shy whatsoever about death. In fact, the crucifixion scene is popular to display in entryways, and over altars. Some show the nails in Christ's hands and feet and then a little blood. Others go all out. I'm talking horror style gore, the visions of nightmares, namely mine as a child. Louisiana has a similar openness about death, though they show it in a different way.

The cemeteries of Louisiana are so prominent, you could not miss them if you tried. They are above ground due to the geographical problems that Louisiana poses; wood floats, so when the land floods, well you could imagine the problems. All over the state, the inhabitants of Louisiana are not shy or squeamish about death at all. In fact, graveyards are across the city, some bodies were never moved when the city grew and the cemeteries downsized and moved. The gas station next to St. Louis 1 cemetery  found a few surprises when they were laying their foundation. We even spotted a cemetery next to a playground in Grand Isle.

No only is this openness about death, and borderline showcasing of it, provoke stories of the undead to be told, these 'cities of the dead" provide such a great setting for vampire fiction. We toured the St. Louis Cemetery Number 1, where Louis's brother was buried, the St. Louis Cathedral, and an Ursuline convent. We even visited the Lafayette No. 1 cemetery where Claudia hunted in Interview with the Vampire. Nature played a part their as well in adding to the already eerie quality of an old cemetery; vines crept in, through, and around some of the tombs, cracking a few. Some graves were even open.

“(The Feast of All Saints) was a festival in New Orleans; a celebration of death, it might have seemed to tourists who didn’t understand it, but it was a celebration of the life after.”
— Interview with the Vampire (Anne Rice)

 

Extravagance in Vampire Pop-Culture

Due to the city’s origins, there is a certain “French-ness” associated with the state of Louisiana. The Creole citizens in New Orleans especially fit this mold, and specifically the French Quarter. There are certain aspects of French culture that fit so well with the classic example of vampires. One of these aspects is living a dramatic and lavish lifestyle. The French reputation for being extravagant and dramatic people, parading what wealth they have to impress their neighbors. This was not lost among the people of Louisiana, especially Louis’s family and those plantation owners at the time the book is set who had come from France and been granted land to settle indigo plantations. They came over with luxuries not yet available in the “new world,” and continued accumulating furniture and other material objects to showcase their riches. Wealth has been a long-standing measure of importance in society, and it was no different during this time in Louisiana. Louis is not the foremost example of this extravagance, but his mother and sister are, and his wealth is what draws Lestat to him. Lestat, contrary to Louis, loves the drama of being a vampire and he wants to live a life of luxury. Louis is the means by which Lestat and Claudia live as lavishly as they like.

““We lived meantime in one of my new Spanish town houses… a place of far greater luxury and security than Pointe du Lac… and Lestat bought the very latest imports from France and Spain: crystal chandeliers and Oriental carpets, silk screens with painted birds of paradise, canaries singing in great domed, golden cages, and delicate marble Grecian gods and beautifully painted Chinese vases. I did not need the luxury any more than I had needed it before, but I found myself enthralled with the new flood of art and craft and design, could stare at the intricate pattern of the carpets for hours, or watch the gleam of the lamplight change the somber colors of a Dutch painting.””
— Interview with the Vampire (Anne Rice)
The wrought iron railings on the apartments in the French Quarter never cease to amaze. Though the places above are not quite what I imagine Louis, Lestat, and Claudia living in, there is the idea. It is extravagant, and so beautiful.

The wrought iron railings on the apartments in the French Quarter never cease to amaze. Though the places above are not quite what I imagine Louis, Lestat, and Claudia living in, there is the idea. It is extravagant, and so beautiful.

Though Lestat is the driving force behind the extravagance of their new place, and although he knows that he does not need any of what he has, Louis still enjoys it. Vampire’s have so long to live, and since the people surrounding them are nothing but vehicles of blood for them to feast on, each of which will one day expire, they spend money on extravagant things that make them seem important. Vampires suffer from a superiority complex rooted in their infinite potential for life expectancy and supernatural physical qualities. They are almost god-like creatures, and often with that comes the need to be looked at if if they are gods amongst men. This is done in society by being the wealthiest, so therefore Lestat spares no expense in clothing Claudia and decorating the flat. This is similar to the way that royalty would purchase unnecessary luxuries and parade them around. Just think of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI.

Art and Culture

While Lestat pursued his material desires for a lavish lifestyle, Louis and Claudia chose a different aspect of French lifestyle to focus on: the arts. Both Louis and Claudia read a good deal, for which Lestat often mocked Louis, calling his library a pile of dust. Louis describes Claudia getting lost in the pictures of a book. They also play the piano, which is a common theme in vampire fiction. I understand it though. If you had all of the time in the world, and had everything you need, why not take that time to learn something as difficult and rewarding as the piano?

“But there was no quarrelling. We kept to ourselves. We had our adjustments. Books filled our long flat from floor to ceiling in row after row of gleaming leather volumes, as Claudia and I pursued our natural tastes and Lestat went about his lavish acquisitions.”
— Interview with the Vampire (Anne Rice)

 

 

Nightlife

Another aspect of French culture that fits with, if not aids, the vampire's lifestyle: nightlife. This facet of New Orleans allows the vampire to avoid suspicion by claiming that the night was a wild, drunken affair gone wrong. Likely stemming from the French’s love of wine and food, and tendency to overindulge in the two, nightlife and partying are important aspects of New Orleans culture. Not only is it helpful that an abundance of drunk and susceptible people are out and about during the hours that a vampire might be outside, it provides also provides the perfect cover. This allows for there to be little to no panic around the death, the vampire’s presence is not declared, and he may keep hunting under the radar as he likes. Lestat uses this to his advantage, pretending that the one of the two women he was entertaining had passed out due to overconsumption of wine, so the second was not alerted to the danger she was in.

“Lestat was masterfully clever and utterly vicious...he drank his fill without the other woman even knowing. ‘Your friend has no head for wine,’ he said, slipping out of the chair and seating the unconscious woman there, her arms folded under her face on the table.”
— Interview with the Vampire (Anne Rice)

Though we did not explore Bourbon Street at night, we still got a portion of the experience there. Bourbon St. is also a tourist area, and man do people start early. "It's 5 O'Clock somewhere" has been taken too a whole new level. We still explored the city at night, the way a group of underage kids could, well half of us were. We ate, took the streetcar, and explored a city that is as much alive at night as it is in the daytime, maybe even more. I swear New Orleans should be the city that never sleeps. We would come back at 11pm, but the city was still bustling.  I do wonder what Bourbon St. is like at night, and what the inside of all of the mrs and clubs look like, however I am just going to have to wait and come back.

 

Other Supernatural Fiction in Louisiana

Though the history and geography of the south creates the ideal setting for supernatural tales, Louisiana is particularly perfect for vampires. The French aspects of Louisiana culture play off common themes surrounding vampires so well. Anne Rice is not the only one who has noticed these qualities of the south, specifically Louisiana. Many other television shows, films, and novels that have paranormal aspects take place in and around Louisiana. Popular culture set in Louisiana with supernatural themes range from the television show True Blood (2008-2014), and its highly sexualized portrayal of vampires, to the children’s movie The Princess and the Frog (2009), where a prince is turned into a frog by an evil voodoo man.

French culture seen in this novel are also common themes in vampire fiction across the board today. In movies and books focusing on the popular supernatural beings, vampires often enjoy accumulated wealth from their many years. Nightlife is of course a running theme as well, due to that in most fiction, vampires cannot be in the sun. Bars are often utilized as hunting grounds for the creatures of the night.

Voodoo culture is another reason why the supernatural is at home in Louisiana. The popular version of Voodoo is that which is seen in movies and books like The Princess and the Frog. However, we had the chance to learn about the history of Voodoo from the heart. It is a religion, not witchcraft as most people believe, of which I was one. The religion has many aspects, but the biggest is the importance of spirits and appeasing them for good fortune. Since I am not an expert on Voodoo, if you are in New Orleans, you should make your way over to the New Orleans Historic Voodoo Museum. Though the museum is only a few rooms, they are filled with information and displays. You might even make an offing while you are there.

Music Sets the Tone

Check out my bookpacking playlist for Interview with the Vampire on Spotify! For the duration of this course, each playlist will expand as I find new songs fitting of a certain text. Listening to music while I read helps me get into the right state of mind to connect better with the characters in the book. Have a listen here to see if that might work for you:

https://open.spotify.com/user/1259415490/playlist/3gwFHOyKDqKITkIUYD1dWY

French Quarter

“I alight at Esplanade in a smell of roasting coffee and creosote and walk up Royal Street. The lower Quarter is the best part. The ironwork on the balconies sags like rotten lace. Little French cottages hide behind high walks. Through deep sweating carriageways, one catches glimpses of courtyards gone to jungle”
— Walker Percy, The Moviegoer

Our first day in New Orleans and our second book of the trip, had taken us to the French Quarter. With Anne Rice’s novel, Interview with the Vampire, still in our hands, we jumped off the street car at Esplanade Street. We took in the scenery; the street artists with their paintings, crafts, and typewriters, the musicians with their trumpets, trombones, and saxophones, and the tourists with their visors, backpacks, and cameras. Did we really look like those other tourists? Yes, yes we did.

The French Quarter, in its day, was a bustling city-center, full of rich art, culture, and creoles. And it is preserved well, now rich with the history that made it famous with a few crumbling bricks, here and there. We admired each unique building, wedged up right against the other in neat rows down and around the city blocks. The bright colors, the intricate railings, the thick moldings, dormers, and trim, all engaged us in a historical romanticism; wouldn’t it have been amazing to have lived there? Each structure begged you to wonder how long it had stood there and how much it had seen.

We sat in Jackson Square for awhile, reading our books, Mardi Gras beads hanging in the oak trees overhead. We ate at Café du Monde, sharing plates of beignets and spent hours afterward dusting the powdered sugar from our clothes. And we listened to jazz as we talked about the city, the culture, Interview with the Vampire, and then Walker Percy’s novel, The Moviegoer.

Jackson Square had become a familiar place to us as we continued to explore the French Quarter. Our search for preserved history took us many interesting places, all within a few blocks distance. The New Orleans Pharmacy Museum, Napoleon House, the 1850 House, Madame John’s Legacy House, the Voodoo Museum, and the Old Ursuline Convent, all gave another unique facet to New Orleans’ incredibly diverse and colorful story.

The New Orleans Pharmacy Museum houses herbs, chemicals, tools, and tonics that were part of medicine and pharmacy practices in the past. The museum describes the history of medicine, especially surrounding New Orleans’ culture. Only two doors down, Napoleon House sits at the corner of St. Louis Street and Chartres Street. It was once the residence of the mayor of New Orleans, Nicholas Girod, who offered his home to Napoleon as refuge. And although Napoleon never made it, and honestly, probably never even knew Girod had offered, the name of the building never changed. Back in Jackson Square, the 1850 House is part of the series of row houses that overlooks the square, built by the Baroness Micaela Almonester de Pontabla, the daughter of a wealthy Spanish landowner who helped develop New Orleans, the French Quarter, and particularly, the St. Louis Cathedral. The house, containing period furnishings and fixtures, offers a glance into the lives of the upper classes during the boom of architecture, art, and culture, into the city. Similarly, Madame John’s Legacy House, represents the French colonial architecture that was popular during the construction of New Orleans. The Voodoo Museum explores the rituals, terms, and folklore surrounding Voodoo and its deep history in the city and with its African roots. The three small rooms of the museum are packed with altars, Voodoo dolls, bones, and art, detailing the importance of the religion and spirituality to its members, in the past and today. Only a short distance away, the Old Ursuline Convent is the oldest building in New Orleans, reminding us of the traditional Catholicism that establishes the city's gothic influences.

Each place we visited in the French Quarter reminded us of the vast diversity that encouraged New Orleans to become the ethnic, bohemia of Louisiana. And even though time has aged it, the city and its people continue to preserve all of New Orleans history and all its unique traditions. Every building, every place we stopped, encouraged our understanding of the city's web of histories. Only in New Orleans, could all these things coexist. It was, and remains, a place for Voodoo and Catholicism, for Spanish and French, African and American cultures, for political and literary debates, and for art and relics. 

We had become part of that dialogue, part of the story of New Orleans, our books shedding light in corners of the city that would have otherwise been overlooked. We imagined Kate Chopin’s, Edna Pontellier on one of her famous walks down Esplanade Street, Anne Rice’s, Louis and Lestat creeping down Bourbon Street for a midnight snack, and Walker Percy’s Binx locked in an existential crisis on his way to lunch on Royal Street.

Hiding Places

Measure time in passing

Streetcars, their clatter a sign

Of something looming.

The unadorned pillar—barely remembered,

Once revered—and the woman

Who seeks change and a prayer

And tells us, you’re sweet.

Find me tomorrow

On the corner of Royal and Canal,

She says, before you leave. Find me

Through the overgrown branches,

Through the pale green jalousies

Offset by peeling plaster—

These hiding places encase us

In life, the marble tombs

In the afterlife. One stood open,

Its emptiness inviting. Step into

This moss-grown space, damp

With the threat of a storm.

Lift your head from your pages

And watch rain embrace the rooftop

Opposite. Watch as it creates

A mirror for itself.

Grand Isle, LA

IMG_4616.JPG
“The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.”
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening

"On the Shore"

I feel tingling soft sand
on my toes while wading
in salty water
cooled by the thick moist air
that fills my nostrils.

Playing in the largess
of the ocean shore,
we feel the weight of love
in soothing shades of light. 
"This land is lonely,
but we find love in the quietest of places."

My English tongue quivers
at the breathe of the New World
far away from the routine of City.
I struggle to behold the beauty
of this place for a quiet moment.
Still a patient wind invites
me into an ancient ebb and flow
drawing my attention away from
my own inward stroll to the
narrowing of a cosmic river.

 

 

California Boy Goes to Swamps

After three days on Grand Isle, it was time for our team to head to New Orleans. On our way to the Big Easy, we made a pitstop at Lafitte, a small town named after the notrious Gulf of Mexico pirate, Jean Lafitte. Here, we grubbed at a small mom & pop restaurant named Boutte's. I had the best red beans & rice here.

After a quick bite, our team journeyed to the Barataria Preserve in Jean Lafitte National Historical Park. Our team got the opportunity to walk the trails that run through the swamp and marsh. It was a biome unlike any other I've seen in California. For those who are unfamiliar with swamp and marsh, it may be hard to comprehend just what a swamp and marsh is; I definitely didn't understand prior to seeing it in person. While Wikipedia's pages may be of some use, hopefully my aural and visual records can help you understand the flavor of this incredible natural habitat. Sadly, we did not see an alligator…

The Sound

We’ll start with the basic soundscape of the swamps. You can here birds and insects filling the aural atmosphere. Occasionally, a breeze will rustle the leaves and add another layer. I captured this recording near the entrance of the trail, so some vehicle sound was captured. In order to remove the unwanted sound, I ran the track through a few filters, removing as much of the sound as I could without jeopardizing the integrity of the soundscape.

A bit later, the wind died down, so I took another capture of the general swamp soundscape. Since I was further along the trail, I was both closer to the animal sound sources and further from vehicles in the parking lot. This allowed me to turn up the gain of my recorder and get a clearer recording of the soundscape. Using moderate filtering, I focussed this track on the birds and insects of the swamp.

As our group journeyed further into the swamp, the sounds became progressively weirder. Here, we have an added layer of swamp frogs.

Then we encountered some interesting insect sounds.

But the granddaddy of all weird sounds has to be this strange, sheep-like sound. I am still unsure what kind of animal could produce such an interesting tone, but one of our teammates claims a frog was making this sound.

The Look

(Ba)You Don't Own Me

En route to New Orleans, we stopped over at the Barataria Preserve in the Jean Lafitte National Historical Park. We were on a mission – spot the elusive American alligator in its natural habitat. Well, I suppose it was mainly my mission, and I forced everyone to become as enthused as I was. I worked at a zoo for five years so, naturally, it's my duty to throw around words like osteoderms, death roll, and Steve Irwin’s signature crikey! Rest in Peace, Steve. Unfortunately, however, we saw no gators that day. And, truth be told, the bayou trees were slightly underwhelming, since all the largest cypresses were cut down about a hundred years ago (humans ruin everything). But there is hope, yet – Andrew promises we’ll take a swamp tour when we head west into Cajun country. I’m going to hold him to that.

But, lack of gators aside, venturing into the mini-bayou was the perfect transition from Grand Isle to New Orleans. It created the ambience necessary for reading Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire.

Stepping into a Louisiana swamp is like stepping through time. Prehistoric-looking ferns brush your arm as you labor through the stickiness of the hot air. The verdure is thick and lush. Only a little white light ekes through from above, playing shadow games with the Spanish moss, which hangs lazily from branches like a woman’s hair. There are things that chirp and groan in the brush, hidden always from view. Even the water, completely covered in algae, provides countless hiding places for those things that chirp and groan. Or, more startlingly, the things that silently lurk. And I’m not just talking about gators. The early French settlers here told stories of the Rougarou, a creature that takes the form of a man by day but, by night, peels back its skin and turns into a hairy, ravenous beast that roams the swamp looking for prey. A French swamp werewolf, if you will. Laugh all you want, but I guarantee you wouldn’t be so smug if you were alone at night in the Barataria Preserve and you heard a rustle in the bushes. I was there at two in the afternoon with the eight other Bookpackers, when something scampered across my foot. I almost hit the deck. It was a 4-inch-long lizard, in case you were wondering.  

The culprit.

The culprit.

The Rougarou, alligators, and 4-inch-long lizards had certainly made me jumpy, but it was more than that. I had begun reading Interview with the Vampire. I could so clearly visualize Louis and Lestat, our two beautiful and blood-thirsty protagonists, hunting runaway slaves here.

“He sank to his knees, and Lestat fed fast as the other slaves came running...it was as if we were black insects utterly camouflaged in the night, watching the slaves move, oblivious to us, discover the wounded man, drag him back, fan out in the foliage searching for the attacker.”
— Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire

If the lights and licentiousness of New Orleans provide the place where Louis and Lestat can be elegant, well-dressed Creoles, the dark primitiveness of the swamp provides the place where they can be true beasts of the night. Though, I don't think Louis would care much for that description. 

Much like our vampire friends, our journey is far from over here in the cypress swamp. I hear a solo trumpet player in the distance, singing out, staccato and effervescent and joyous. Purple, green, and gold beads drip from tree branches and street lamps. At long last, New Orleans.

MEAL OF THE MOMENT: GUMBO

There was only one thing that could free me from my swamp jitters. What better first "Meal of the Moment" than gumbo? We stopped at Boutte’s Bayou Restaurant in Lafitte (by the way, if you don’t know who Jean Lafitte is, you should look him up and possibly write to Steven Spielberg or Ridley Scott. I have no idea why they haven’t made that movie yet). Anyway, GUMBO.

Gumbo, for those of you unaware of its sensational charms, is a stew, born right here in southern Louisiana a couple centuries ago. There are several different varieties, and I would never claim to understand what constitutes the perfect gumbo, but the one I had at Boutte’s was pretty damn good. It was of the Cajun variety, containing chicken, shellfish (including, of course, crawfish and shrimp), andouille sausage, rice, and various veggies. I had it with buttered French bread. Don’t tell New England clam chowder I cheated on it. But is it really cheating if we were on a break?

Gumbo is the official dish of Louisiana for a reason. The very creation of the stew represents the mingling of traditions that have come to define the state and, in particular, New Orleans. Gumbo is influenced by Spanish, West African, and French culinary practices, just as the city is influenced by these very same cultures. As we head into New Orleans, the concept of "Frenchness" will become vital, not only in contextualizing Interview with the Vampire (as well as The Awakening), but in understanding each sight, sound, and smell of the Big Easy.

Past and Future

“‘Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult.’”
— Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire

On the night of May 18, 2017, just south of the Lafayette Hotel where we were staying, a protest took place around a statue of Robert E. Lee, raised high on a white column in the middle of the eponymous Lee Circle. The city had decided to remove this and other similar statues, as they stood as symbols of a romanticized Southern myth, Confederate nostalgia, and white supremacy. Several people had come to decry this decision, saying that the statue was a connection to their history. One man yelled, "Why start small? Take them all! Statue of Liberty next!" The drastic comparison of the Robert E. Lee statue to the Statue of Liberty made me realize just how valued these historical figures are by certain groups. For others who were there, however, the statue was seen as a reminder of slavery, oppression, and racism. Shouting matches turned into shoving matches, and though we were initially afraid that violence would erupt (as Ogechi describes in her wonderful post about the event), native onlookers around us laughed off the yelling as if it were nothing more than a game of insults between children on a playground.

I wondered then about the way we navigate the transition between past and future identities. How do we change ourselves in order to move out of yesterday and into tomorrow? For New Orleans and the South at large, that change is most prominent in race relations, particularly those between white and African-American groups. The past must not be ignored—it must be confronted and accepted in a way that acknowledges and condemns the horrors of slavery, Jim Crow laws, segregation, police brutality, and all other forms of racism. Clearly, there are people who want to resist that change. Perhaps that is why history is often cyclical.

Confederate and American flags in Lee Circle on the night of May 18

Confederate and American flags in Lee Circle on the night of May 18

Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire follows the story of Louis de Pointe du Lac, as told by Louis himself to an interviewer identified simply as "the boy." Louis is transformed into a vampire by Lestat de Lioncourt. In the first part of the novel, the two live on Louis’s plantation near New Orleans; they eventually move into the city, where Lestat transforms a young girl named Claudia.

Image via amazon.com

Image via amazon.com

I’m writing about Interview with the Vampire here because it, to me, is a novel about change and identity. Both Louis and Claudia have to face the fact that they are now vampires, immortal beings whose lives can never be as they were before. This is a difficult transition for Louis especially, as he does not believe Lestat’s conviction that they are inevitably bound by their bloodthirsty, murderous vampiric nature. For Louis, being a vampire does not preclude morality and emotion, and he avoids killing human victims in favor of animals. He teaches Claudia to appreciate such values, tells her that "'our eternal life was useless to us if we did not see the beauty around us, the creation of mortals everywhere.'"

Something that caught my attention in the novel was the way in which Anne Rice connects vampirism to slavery. In the most basic sense, she does this by setting Louis and Lestat on a plantation worked by slaves. Lestat often lures slaves into being his meals, and when the two vampires are forced to leave the plantation, they massacre the slaves in a gruesome scene of violence. On a more subtle level, however, Rice uses the vampire’s need for companionship to create a master-slave relationship between Lestat, the transformer, and Louis, the transformed. Both suffer in the "chains" of "loneliness," and they are bound to each other despite their conflicting views on what it means to be a vampire.

Louis is a fascinating character to me because he lives through a historical transition from slavery to emancipation while struggling to free himself from Lestat and his own vampire identity. I was reminded of several themes and moments from the novel by one of the more civilized conversations that I listened to while in Lee Circle (the same one that Ogechi transcribes in her post). A woman named Sonya described her journey throughout the United States as an African-American and the way she deals with the past.

Ignoring the expletives being hurled in the background, Sonya looked at us and said, "I have a difference even with my own African-American people, you understand what I’m saying? So there are times when I’m sitting in the middle." This difference, she explained, comes from having lived in different parts of the country and from having experienced an "eclectic community."

It’s a sobering thought, the idea of being separated from your own people. Louis feels that same separation from Lestat, for whom being a vampire means "'[r]evenge against life itself. […] Vengeance, blind and sterile and contemptible.'" Louis, on the other hand, continues to seek emotional validation. He still feels the "'strong overpowering emotions of detached persons in whom emotion and will are one.'" Even as a vampire, Louis experiences "'a desire for communication.'" He longs to find a connection with the humanity he has left behind, and so he feels a type of love for Babette, the woman who runs the neighboring plantation.

Louis’s capacity for emotion separates him from other vampires; he refuses to give in to what Lestat says is his vampire nature. Sonya, too, stressed the power of emotion. "When it comes to my looking at another race," she said, "I would tell them, 'Read the history, educate yourself. How would you feel? And if you do that, if at some point within, you don’t have a feeling of pain, you don’t have a feeling of compassion for an African-American, then you need to check yourself and say, 'why?''"

"Why?" indeed. Why should Louis be bound by "vampire nature"? Why should anyone be bound by a cruel history of oppression? Why can we not reject our nature, our legacies, in favor of better alternatives?

One of Sonya’s anecdotes stood out to me. "When I left Cali and was in Alabama," she began, "they had all these trinkets and whatever. I picked up a Confederate flag bracelet, and I was wearing it, and I didn’t even know what it was." She smiled at her own naïveté. "I walked into a bar, and I was talking to them, and they were looking at me, and then next thing you know we were just chitchatting it up. I remember them saying, 'How come the rest of them aren’t like you?' I actually had on a Confederate bracelet and didn’t even know that it was a Confederate bracelet. How does that happen?"

Louis travels to Europe with Claudia in search of the origins of vampires. They are severely disappointed when they encounter vampires who are feral, insentient, and animalistic. Louis and Claudia live in ignorance of other vampires, and they are utterly shocked to discover an unexpected part of vampire history. They, like Sonya, live in isolated environments and are accustomed to a certain perspective. Sonya’s world was "West Coast, Northern California, San Francisco." When she came to the South, she encountered a different world. Since then, her newfound awareness has shaped her attitude about life.

"Guess what the relationship between New Orleans and San Francisco is?" she asked. None of us knew. "They’re sister cities. The same energy, the freedom." And here is Sonya’s wisdom in all its brilliant glory. Despite the different experiences that she has had in New Orleans and San Francisco, she sees the commonality between the two cities. Louis also finds commonalities between his former human self and his current vampire self. He feels emotions in both forms. He fears the possibility of loneliness as a vampire, which is the same as aching with a need for love. And there is nothing more human than to desire love. There is no vampire nature, only human nature.

“‘I love you now with my human nature, if ever I had it,’ I said to her.”
— Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire

This is the simple truth that Sonya understands and hopes that everyone else will understand: we are all human. That is how we move forward.

The statue of Robert E. Lee being removed on May 19, 2017 (image via Wikimedia Commons)

The statue of Robert E. Lee being removed on May 19, 2017 (image via Wikimedia Commons)

New Orleans is the perfect place to learn this lesson. As bookpackers, we seek out the smallest moments that teach us the most, moments that "must be first known and then savored." Every moment is such a moment in this city, this "'magical and magnificent place'" in which all are human. Whatever else changes, our humanity is a constant common ground on which we all build our lives, our futures.

Near the end of his interview, Louis tells the boy, "'But all during these years I had a vague but persistent desire to return to New Orleans. I never forgot New Orleans.'" Neither will I.

Mademoiselle Reisz's Song

Music is an important part of every culture, especially in New Orleans. However, before Jazz took over, classical piano was extremely popular. Mademoiselle Riesz's music in The Awakening shows the importance of music on a personal level as it played a big part in Edna's awakening in Chopin's famous novella.

 

Mademoiselle Reisz's Song

Expert fingers glide

‘cross the ivory plane.

Each key discovers new passion.

One by one, opens every lock

Protecting her guarded heart.

The final note rings deep,

A single tear rolls down her cheek.

In the crowd surrounding, she remains isolate.

Alone with the lingering melody,

The only one in the room worth playing for.

En Route to New Orleans

“She sat beside me, silent, as we rode on and on until we’d passed the gas-lit gates of the few country houses, and the shell road narrowed and became rutted, the swamp rising on either side of us, a great wall of seemingly impenetrable cypress and vine. I could smell the stench of the muck, hear the rustling of the animals.”
— Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire

In our big transition into the city, from Grand Isle to New Orleans, our Bookpacking group stopped into the Barataria Preserve Trails, and to be honest, with the greatest intent being to spot ourselves an alligator. Extremely excited for this endeavor, I did research all the differences of alligators and crocodiles while we were en route, just to make sure I knew what I was talking about when that ever popular question came up, "Do they have alligators or crocodiles in Louisiana?" To be ever prepared yourself, I suggest you do your own research.

Beyond our obvious and ecstatic fascination with 'gators,' we had already begun to read Anne Rice's novel, Interview with the Vampire, which very immediately, engages your interest in swamps, bogs, bayous, what-have-you. I was eager to explore a difficult terrain with marvelously perfect attributes for a vampire to hide its victims. Anne Rice writes of Louis, a struggling, righteous, moral vampire, who becomes the immortal companion of sadistic, cruel, immoral vampire, Lestat. The two peruse the bayou, whether it be to hide the body of a recently drained slave, or in the various attempts Louis decides to reinvent his vampiric-self by trying an animal blood diet. And while Louis' diets never last very long, we can't really blame him. None of us can do it here in Louisiana either, Lou.

FullSizeRender.jpg-46.jpeg

We hopped out of the van, the humidity thicker near the stagnant water of the bayou, the shade darker under the supposedly only fledgling cypress trees, all with our hearts set on finding that illusive gator. Sadly, you will have to be disappointed, as we all were, to learn that we did not spot our alligator beauty in the murky waters of the swamp that day. We are all dealing with this in our own ways; Morgan is still encouraging the group with her Steve Irwin impressions.

We walked down the boardwalk of the Barataria Trails, inter-webbed over the low-lying water and between the cypress trees. We looked high --but mostly low for that gator-- up into the canopy where the cypress were engulfed in Spanish moss and thick vines. We enjoyed dragon fly after dragon fly, and surprisingly, squirrel after squirrel, as we made our way through the bayou.

With Rice's words from Interview with the Vampire in our hands and in our minds, we all imagined Louis and Lestat meandering the swamps. And with a story with such contrast and change from Kate Chopin's softer and critical novella, The Awakening, we were challenged to redirect our thoughts. In a few short moments we had travelled from the soft sandy beaches of Grand Isle into the muck of the swamps. As we continued our journey into the city of New Orleans, the realization that this region, that Louisiana, was such an elaborate ecosystem of both nature and culture, became the marker of the breadth of Bookpacking.

The Song of the Sea

Our first book, The Awakening, by Kate Chopin, took us to Grand Isle. An island off the southern coast of Lousiana, it has been historically implemented as a summertime vacation spot for the wealthier demographic of Louisiana. The foliage and overall vibe are a cross between the speed of Catalina Island, off the coast of Southern California, and the foliage of Kauai, Hawaii. Here are some pics to give you a sense of the place:

The Awakening

“In short, Mrs. Pontellier was beginning to realize her position in the universe as a human being, and to recognize her relations as an individual to the world within and about her”
— The Awakening, Chapter VI

During her Grand Isle getaway, Mrs. Pontellier, a.k.a. Edna, becomes an independent thinker and challenges the social boundaries/expectations placed upon her. There she experiences Creole influences that draw her out of the conservative, Puritan, American heritage that defines her worldview. The influences of physical affinity, emotional affairs, and romantic music draw Edna out of her world. She eventually goes back to her New Orleans home, and in short, sees everything differently and does some radical stuff in comparison to the social expectations of women during the late 19th century.

The Sound

I want to focus on Edna’s aural stimulations at Grand Isle. Her romantic conversion is closely tied to her relationship with the ocean. In Chapter 6, Kate Chopin gives us insight into why Edna is starting to conjure new thoughts and realign her worldview.

“The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation”
— The Awakening, Chapter VI
blog2-6.jpg

Something about the ocean’s natural sound unravels Edna. While on Grand Isle, I decided to capture what Edna might have heard in the ocean. All my audio is captured in stereo, so it will be best experienced with headphones (if you’re a real audiophile, you can download a 96kHz 24bit WAV through Soundcloud). Listen and try to hear the whispering, clamoring, and murmuring of the sea.

There is a lot to this Grand Isle soundscape. The churning of mild waves and the calls of various birds bring a nature-driven character to the sound. This gulf sound distinguishes Grand Isle's aural temperament from its costal counterparts. It is minimal, not having too many layers, yet each aural element is thick and complex. Overall, the timbre sets a mood of relaxation, solitude, and environmental immersion. Compare this to the Pacific Ocean along the Los Angeles coast; its atmosphere screams action. Bigger waves bring a boomier presence of water; a greater traffic of people creates a human-based walla rather than a bird-based one; depending on the beach, planes or piers add an industrial/city character to the beach instead of the lonely solitude of the Grand Isle coast. Grand Isle’s soundscape proves that Edna’s transformation must happen on Grand Isle. There, the aural serenity allows her to sink into her own world and put aside the hustle and bustle that comes with her conservative wife-life in New Orleans.

The Music

Another element adds to Edna’s transformation, music. In Chapter 9, the romantic piano playing of Mademoiselle Reisz moves Edna into a new emotional dimension. While it is unclear what piece Mademoiselle plays, readers know that it is one of Frederic Chopin’s preludes that arouses Edna’s emotional passion. A good guess at the piece could be Chopin’s Prelude in E-Minor (Op. 28, No.4). “The very first chords which Mademoiselle Reisz struck upon the piano sent a keen tremor down Mr.s Pontellier’s spinal column.” I think this prelude would stir such feelings.

Immediately after this new wave of emotions, Edna conjures up the confidence to swim in the ocean. I think this moment completes Edna’s transformation, as Kate Chopin continues:

“[Edna] grew daring and reckless, overestimating her strength. She wanted to swim far out, where no woman had swum before”
— The Awakening, Chapter X

I imagine Frederic Chopin’s Prelude flowing through Edna’s ears and body. It is the anthem that gives her confidence to swim and break from the social boundaries that previously kept her on the shore. I’ve superimposed the prelude with the gulf soundscape to give a sense of what Edna may have perceived as she grew in confidence.

It was quite windy throughout our time on Grand Isle. A slight breeze would roll in from the ocean and create a torrent of sound for my microphone setup. Unfortunately I did not bring a windscreen with me, so I had to make some on-the-fly DIY maneuvers. I tried socks and sweaters; they worked…but they really didn’t do a good job blocking the wind. Luckily, our team’s Airbnb provided these small facial towels. With just the right thickness, the towel canceled out the the torrent of wind without blocking too much of the high frequency content. Combined with a bit of EQ processing, it was the perfect solution.

Makeshift Zoom H6N setup

Makeshift Zoom H6N setup

Also, there were interesting animals along the beach. I was impressed by this crab's camouflage abilities.

Alors Lisez

Our first taste of "bookpacking" took place in Grand Isle, situated off the Gulf Coast of Louisiana, and a popular vacation destination. With only two full days in our rental house, we dove into the The Awakening by Kate Chopin. In each place I chose to read: on a rocking chair looking out at the gulf, on the porch swing under the house, and most especially on the hot sand of the beach, Chopin's description's of Grand Isle leapt off the page. 

“It was very warm, and for a while they did nothing but exchange remarks about the heat, the sun, and the glare. But there was a breeze blowing, a choppy, stiff wind that whipped the water into froth.”
— The Awakening (Kate Chopin)

Each day was filled with good food, enticing stories, and wonderful company, but my goodness was it muggy! If there was one description of Grand Isle from The Awakening that I most connect with it would be that of the weather. So hot, so sticky, and so windy. The above quote alone describes the weather for the while of our time on the island. Though she did forget to mention the mosquitoes. The group had multiple conversations about the weather, and remarks about the heat and humidity were not few and far between.

Days 1, 2, and 3 - Awakening in Grand Isle

I have had the pleasure of reading The Awakening twice before this experience. Each time I re-read a book I discover something new. With an established familiarity, I am able to read between the lines, dig deeper into the character’s subconscious, and speculate more about the author’s intentions. This third time reading Chopin’s famous work was no different in that respect. However, I believe I was able to take away even more from this read due to my scenery.

I had a basic view of what Grand Isle, New Orleans, and most major settings looked like, though when we arrived in Grand Isle I discovered that my idea of the place was not quite reality. With this newfound realistic view of Grand Isle, I was able to lessen the gap between myself and the story even more. Sitting on the beach I could see Edna. I have no trouble visualizing a scene in a book, in fact that is my favorite part about reading; when a scene floats off the pages and you can visualize it like a movie in your mind.

With this experience I did not have to visualize Edna on the beach while I sit in a café but I could sit on that very beach. The experience was almost overwhelming. A story is so much different, more exciting, and more relevant when the reader feels as if they are a part of it all. That is what the idea of “bookpacking” has done for me. With each new look at this wonderful text I am able to discover something new and interesting, but reading it in the setting where a large part of the novella takes place granted me not only new insight, but a new experience. A multidimensional experience.

“Edna Pontellier, casting her eyes about, had finally kept them at rest upon the sea. The day was clear and carried the gaze out as far as the blue sky went; there were a few white clouds suspended idly over the horizon. A lateen sail was visible in the direction of Cat Island, and others to the south seemed almost motionless in the far distance. ”
— The Awakening (Kate Chopin)

Day 4 - Goodby Grand Isle, hello New Orleans

Screen Shot 2017-05-23 at 3.26.49 PM.png

And so on we went, ready to tackle the next leg of our journey. Driving north on our way to New Orleans, stopping along the way at the Jean Lafitte National Historical Preserve, exploring the bayou in hopes of spotting an alligator. Though unfortunately we had no such luck, we were able to see a few colorful dragonflies and even a lizard. The Spanish moss hanging on the trees added an eerie beauty to the walk which is something that I am not lucky enough to have seen before as a born and raised Midwesterner. in short, my first few days in Louisiana were magical.

“At an early hour in the evening the Farival twins were prevailed upon to play the piano...They played a duet from ‘Zampa,’ and at the earnest solicitation of everyone present followed it with the overture to ‘The Poet and the Peasant.’”
— The Awakening (Kate Chopin)

Check out my bookpacking playlist for The Awakening on Spotify! For the duration of this course, each playlist will expand as I find new songs fitting of a certain text. Listening to music while I read helps me get into the right state of mind to connect better with the characters in the book. Have a listen here to see if that might work for you:

https://open.spotify.com/user/1259415490/playlist/3gQ6xvddiP3txQG6tPwjyK

“The very first chords of which Mademoiselle Reisz struck upon the piano sent a keen tremor down Mrs. Pontellier’s spinal column. It was the not the first time she had heard an artist at the piano. Perhaps it was the first time she was ready, perhaps the first time her being was tempered to take an impress of the abiding truth.”
— The Awakening (Kate Chopin)

Bonus:  If you want to dive even deeper into our visit, here is a video of the Gas & Grill that was across the street from us:

https://www.facebook.com/JoBobsConoco/videos/632314533513532/

Grand Isle

“She was happy to be alive and breathing, when her whole being seemed to be one with the sunlight, the color, the odors, the luxuriant warmth of some perfect Southern day. She liked then to wander alone into strange and unfamiliar places. She discovered many a sunny, sleepy corner, fashioned to dream in.”
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening

Time passes much more slowly here at Grand Isle, an effect likely caused by the fact that the Wi-Fi connection in our lovely beach house is tenuous at best. The microwave takes longer to heat food, my phone charges at a sluggish pace, trawlers leave mild ripples in their wake. Ours is a general atmosphere of relaxedness—but not lethargy—that is perfectly suited to our reading purposes. It is so much easier to become immersed in the world of The Awakening, which is the very world around us, without the pressures of social media (though my Instagram account is due for an update).

In many ways, coming to Grand Isle for the first leg of our bookpacking trip is the perfect start. Reading The Awakening right on the beaches where much of the novel takes place is almost uncanny. This is an excellent way to demonstrate what bookpacking is meant to be. We are able to travel to a region and learn about it through experience and literature, and so we are truly immersed in a journey that is both eye-opening and enjoyable.

What makes bookpacking so profound is the chance to see how literature and reality reflect each other. Behind Kate Chopin’s vivid descriptions of Edna Pontellier’s mental and emotional turmoil, Grand Isle’s easygoing, carefree air can be sensed. In the first few pages or so, Mr. Pontellier “idly” watches a “sunshade that was advancing at a snail’s pace from the beach”—Louisiana’s equivalent of tumbleweed. Also apparent is the importance of religion, specifically Catholicism, to the summer vacationers. One character, described only as “a lady in black,” wanders around constantly “telling her beads,” and others often take a ferry to Chênière Caminada “to hear mass.” Though Edna herself is not Creole, the characteristics of the Creole society which she essentially marries into are still prevalent in the novel.

Something that fascinates me is how Grand Isle still displays a rather strange combination of this “apparent disposition to relax” and a sense of Christian prominence. As for the former, the fact that the island remains a popular holiday destination speaks for itself. The beaches and the “voice of the sea” remain “seductive” and “inviting” to all who can afford to rent a beach house for a few days. The latter is evident in the sign that reads, “Jesus Christ Reigns over Grand Isle,” which greets visitors immediately after first driving onto Grand Isle. The graveyard on the island is also an assemblage of crosses and icons and statues of Mary, which, I suppose, is not exactly atypical.

One small bit of graffiti, if it can be called that, exemplifies these characteristics best. A pillar in Grand Isle State Park’s observation tower bears the following inscription:

NOT ALL WHO

WANDER

ARE LOST

The phrase is certainly a cliché, but it is an effective one. Grand Isle is truly a place where one can walk around with no particular destination in mind and take a stroll simply for the pure pleasure of it.

Someone else, however, has made a slight amendment to the original phrase:

NOT ALL WHO

WANDER

[ALL WHO ARE NOT SAVED]

ARE LOST

The simple addition of five words changes the meaning of the phrase entirely. It now expresses a strong sense of religious fervor. While the idea that all who do not believe are lost is true from a Christian (or generally religious) perspective, the manner in which this sentiment is expressed is somewhat ominous. Lurking just beneath the surface of this statement is a threat of hellfire and damnation, which is arguably not the best way to proselytize.

Halfway between innocuity and something much darker, the inscription reminded me of the Creole society that Edna finds herself in, a somewhat contradictory combination of freedom and rigidity. Bookpacking thus affords me deeper insight into Edna's mind than simply reading at home would. After only a few days on the road, I've already felt bookpacking's power to generate greater understanding of people, place, and novel.

Grand Isle

I had never heard of Grand Isle before my travels as a Bookpacker began. Upon first hearing the name a few weeks ago, I gave it a Google and found pictures of wide, flat beaches, porches of distressed wood, and piers jutting out to kiss the sunset. Oh, okay, I thought. This must be the Nantucket of Louisiana. Evidence of my Massachusetts-based worldview, to be sure.

Just as Nantucket acts as a summer getaway for (oftentimes) the wealthy of New England, Grand Isle served the same purpose for the New Orleans elite around the turn of the century. Both islands have unique and intriguing histories. But the comparisons between the two, I quickly learned, stop there.

After hopping off the plane, driving through miles of bayou (and, to my great dismay, seeing no gators), and crossing a long bridge over marshland, we arrived at that quiet stretch of land rising out of the Gulf like an aspidochelone from some medieval bestiary. Don’t ask me why I know creatures from medieval bestiaries. It’s a hobby, and I won’t apologize. Moving on…

We got settled in at Sol et Terre, our seaside home for the three days spent at Grand Isle. We then enjoyed our first Louisiana meal at Jo-Bob’s Gas & Grill across the street (I had chicken tenders because I was too afraid of gas station gumbo) and befriended the convenience store cat, Jo-Bob. Whether the cat came before the grill, or the grill came before the cat, I shall never know. But Jo-Bob was a delightful cat, and I hope he remembers our brief romance as fondly as I will.

My great love.

My great love.

Unlike Nantucket or any other vacation spot with which I’m familiar, Grand Isle is quiet, seemingly devoid of tourists. The air is so saturated with moisture that a slight breeze conjures droplets indiscriminately. The thick-as-molasses atmosphere yields a small population of locals who move just like that – molasses. They're in no hurry. Oh, and they're super nice.

After our group dinner at Yum's Restaurant, a few of us had the good fortune of meeting a lovely couple from the Baton Rouge area. They grow sugarcane and raise crawfish. Much like beaming parents, they pulled out their phones and began scrolling through photos upon photos of their critters, speaking in that round, rich Louisiana accent. Some of the most genuine people I've ever met. And yes, I do plan on heading up to their sugarcane farm at some point, just as soon as I find out what exactly sugarcane is. It's been explained to me so many times, it really has, but I'm going to need some pictures/diagrams/a short YouTube video.

But let's get to the heart of our purpose here. From the moment we set foot on the island, a certain novella was burning a hole in my bag. Upon opening the book, I saw the world through the eyes of Edna Pontellier.

Time to get serious.

I woke up that first morning and took my copy of Kate Chopin’s The Awakening – the first of eight books to digest during this trip – down to the beach. In the two days that followed, something strange and wonderful happened. It is a sensation I can only describe as “good eerie.” There is a quote from the book which has already been cited in the blogs of my friends: “The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation.” I have lived by the sea all my life. I have heard its seductive voice before. But somehow, there on that beach, with the bath-like warmth of the Gulf licking my toes, I felt surrounded by ghosts.

“The water of the Gulf stretched out before her, gleaming with the million lights of the sun.”
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening

The protagonist is Edna Pontellier, a woman who, over the course of a fateful summer at Grand Isle, comes to the realization that her life is stifling. She “awakens” to the fact that her loveless marriage, gender constraints of the time, and, yes, even her children trap her. This is the result of a budding love for her friend Robert and the inspiration drawn from Creole culture (to be explored in later blog entries). But, truly, the entity that has the greatest effect on Edna's transformation is Grand Isle itself. When, at long last, Edna learns to swim, she describes the immense power the sea gives her; one of “significant import” that has been “given to her to control the working of her body and her soul.”

So I, too, stepped into the the Gulf. I lifted my pant legs (they got soaked anyway) and walked all the way out to the cluster of rocks about 30 yards from shore. I sat there and listened to the waves crash, watched a pod of dolphins follow a fishing boat out to sea, felt the sun and the heavy air and the salt of it all wash over me. That was my first encounter with the good eeriness –- a sensation I know will become a recurring theme in my Bookpacking experience. Everything was exactly as Chopin, writing over a century ago, had described. The Gulf was just as Edna had left it. But much, of course, has changed. I am a liberated woman. Edna Pontellier and even Kate Chopin, herself, were not.

So as the sun set on my time at Grand Isle, I closed my eyes on the dying day by the ocean. For one extraordinary moment, I felt tethered to the generations of women who maybe came to Grand Isle long ago, as Edna did, seeking some semblance of freedom. It made me melancholic, for sure. But I was glad of the ghosts’ company.

Oh, the drama! Oh, the supernaturality! Oh, the crawfish! Mon dieu. Next stop is the bayou, my friends, so buckle your seat belts. We'll be encountering some *gasp* whiny, Creole vampires with too much time and money on their hands. 

Also food. There will be food. 

Our Grand Isle

Kate Chopin describes the past life of Grand Isle, Louisiana, as a fanciful escape from the buzzing city of New Orleans. She writes of pristine, white, sandy beaches, of humid heat that has you running for the rushing waves, and of an amble sort of life that draws your mind to wander just as much as your feet.

In its present life, you'd find Grand Isle to nurture these very same qualities; now only more reverent with the history of time passed. And there in our first experience of "Bookpacking," Grand Isle became the perfect place for our little group to connect to our thoughts, the Bookpacking adventure, and each other.

There we all walked down to the beach to read. With our towels lined up in a straight row, we took in the sun as we opened Kate Chopin's, The Awakening. Our toes in the sand, our eyes on the pages, and the breeze on our faces, we clichéd our way through Chopin's story of Edna Pontellier and her adventures at Grand Isle.

FullSizeRender.jpg-44.jpeg

Edna describes the feeling of being somewhat of an outsider to the Creole traditions that she is surrounded by; their spoken and unspoken rules, their innate openness of touch and blunt discussion, and their overall high-culture society. Though a part of the Creole world through her marriage to Léonce Pontellier for some time, in Grand Isle, she finally begins to utilize those elements of Creole culture to discover herself. That summer, Edna encounters relationships that transform her perceptions and develop her mind to cultivate in the awakening of herself.

And as we all loomed over our books, reading Edna's story of self-discovery on Grand Isle, we were all engaged in that dialogue of being an outsider looking in. We knew little of Creole life, of Grand Isle history, and of Louisiana in and of itself. We had only known each other a day or two, a four-hour plane trip from Los Angeles to New Orleans, and a two-hour car ride to Grand Isle. But there, Alfredo, Bowen, Chris, Ogechi, Stasi, Sarah, Morgan, and I, became friends. We discussed the themes of Chopin's idea of Grand Isle, of Edna's awakening, and where the story would take us. We ran through the water together, making snide and clever jokes straight from the novella, and all discovered we had a flair for random outbursts of song and uncomfortable dancing.

Andrew Chater developed our perceptions of Creole traditions and the world Kate Chopin was writing in and we stayed up at night discussing Chopin's feminist invention and listening to pop songs from the 90's. We explored the island, remembering Edna's fictional experiences in places that still were and places that time had eroded away. We all carried our books everywhere we ventured, stopping to read when it suited us. And we had all so quickly become a part of the Bookpacking family that we had barely even realized it.

Bookpacking really set in, for me, as a group experience. Only a few days in, I couldn't wait to see how we would continue to grow as the days went on. Through the process of collaboration, discussion, and unbearable wit, we all seemed to discover parts of the story, parts of the culture, parts of the landscape, and parts of ourselves that we wouldn't have realized without each other. Edna Pontellier grants as much of her awakening to her relationships as she credits her own ambition for freedom. The recipe for Bookpacking develops this same evolution.

“The people walked in little groups toward the beach. They talked and laughed; some of them sang... There were strange, rare odors abroad—a tangle of the sea smell and of weeds and damp, new-plowed earth, mingled with the heavy perfume of a field of white blossoms somewhere near.”
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening
IMG_2261.JPG

Arrival

Hi. I'm Chris

Before I really get into who I am and what I envision this blog to be, I want to quote Kate Chopin.

“[Edna] let her mind wander back over her stay at Grand Isle; and she tried to discover wherein this summer had been different from any and every other summer of her life. She could only realize that she herself – her present self – was in some way different from the other self. That she was seeing with different eyes and making the acquaintance of new conditions in herself that colored and changed her environment…”
— The Awakening, Chapter XIV

I hope that this 2017 Summer will affect me in a similar manner as Edna’s did. When I compare the way I viewed my world on May 14 to the way I will view the world on August 21 (Beginning of USC school year), I hope that I will “see with new eyes” and be capable of doing things I never would have imagined possible. My summer’s theme, beyond the 4 weeks of Bookpacking, is discovery, and I am expecting my Backpacking experience to be a great starting point for the adventures that lie ahead.

Where I was:

When Andrew explained this course to me back in October, I was drawn to a couple of his value propositions:
  1. The opportunity to create a multimedia “Bookpackers Guide” to New Orleans
  2. The opportunity to rekindle an enjoyment for reading

I study Arts, Technology and the Business of Innovation at the USC Iovine and Young Academy. My program aims to develop the ability to think and create across disciplines and practice innovative problem solving. My emphases within the program are Visual Storytelling and Audio Design, so the opportunity to create a multimedia reflection of my time in New Orleans excited me. Additionally, the premise of Bookpacking, reading literature on the road and discovering the worlds these stories take place in, excited the idealistic romantic within me. Bookpacking is an innovative practice, combining flavors of cultural studies, literary analysis, history, primary research, and travel. It seemed a wonderful practice of the interdisciplinary skills I have been studying over the past three years.

My Junior year closed with a time of apprehension and slight stress from an enormous wave of planning I had to get done: straightening out my plans for the remainder of the summer after Bookpacking, planning the animated film I am producing next year, ideating on my Academy capstone project, and working on a Fulbright proposal. After a crazy last week of school, I managed to move out of my apartment and pack for this trip ~4hours before our 7AM call time. As our plane flew over the beautiful American Southwest, I tried to simultaneously catch up on sleep and finish reading A Confederacy of Dunces, and those who know me well know that I am a terrible multitasker.

Where I am:

Within a few hours in Louisiana, I was met with this:

The sunset over the Mississippi River bayous was something to behold for a lifelong Angeleno. The sky's golden blue gradient, intertwined with the sun's sparkle off the heads of swamp shrubery, dazzled me. I had never seen so much water everywhere! The water seeped out of the ground along both sides of the road, and I didn't know where it was coming from. My eyes were heavy and my brain was quite sleep deprived, yet the scenery captured my attention the entire drive from New Orleans to our team’s beachside home on Grand Isle.

Throughout the drive to Grand Isle, I saw small, rundown, riverside shacks that families lived in. I remember passing a family on its porch; the children skipped up and down the steps; the momma held a toddler baby; and the father sat on a rocking chair, sipping a beer. Their front lawn was marshy, their house's paint was peeling, but they were chillin’. I tried to envision just how different my life was from the lives these kids would live. What were their dreams? What kind of education would they receive? And most importantly, would they ever taste Korean food?!? As our Mercedes Benz luxury van strolled alongside the Louisiana marshland, I continued chewing on these thoughts.

There is no question that the environment, weather (#humidity), and lifestyle of Southern Louisiana is far different than my life in Los Angeles. But what really makes this place so different than my home? I hope by capturing and analyzing the aural and visual stimulants of this area, I can discover some of these unique elements. Join me in discovering the sights and sounds of Southern Louisiana.

Bookpacking

Before I begin delving into my experiences with the literature, culture, food, food, and food of Louisiana, I want to take a moment to talk about Bookpacking and what it means to me (and I think...hope...our fearless leader, Andrew, agrees).

I was first struck with the power of setting in literature when I was 13 years old, opening up Wuthering Heights for the first time. The novel intrigued me. It overcame me. It scared the daylights out of me. I have since read Emily Bronte's enduring story of destructive love on the desolate and beautiful moors of northern England a dozen times, and each time I learn something new. However, what never changes in my digestion of Wuthering Heights is the profound effect the moors themselves have on the story and its characters. Wuthering Heights is a study in how the powerful evocation of a particular setting can turn it into another character.

Since first reading that novel, I have been (quite frankly) obsessed with immersing myself in and trying to understand the impact of setting in every work I read. Mid-20th century Southern California in Mildred Pierce, pre-revolution Russia in Anna Karenina, New York during the Roaring '20's in The Great Gatsby, Ireland prior to the War of Independence in Dubliners, and the list goes on. Because I so appreciate how setting informs a story, my own creative writing is, for the most part, heavily steeped in the culture of New England. Being from just outside Boston, I understand the character of this particular region of the country and use this knowledge to create stories I view as time capsules of a place and time – my place and time.

For me, the opportunity to be a "Bookpacker" epitomizes one of the things I love most about literature – to immerse oneself in the culture of a setting with which one might not be familiar. I had never been to southern Louisiana prior to this trip, but I already feel as though I am getting a glimpse into the world of Edna Pontellier, Lestat de Lioncourt, and Ignatius J. Reilly (to name a few) in a way few other people do. Who better to teach me about the uniqueness of New Orleans than these characters and the authors who created them?

That's me and Sarah. Sarah's nice. And cool. And Scottish.

That's me and Sarah. Sarah's nice. And cool. And Scottish.

So many people nowadays would have us believe that fiction doesn’t matter. It’s frivolous and it won’t cure cancer. Yes, it’s true you won’t find the cure for cancer within the pages of A Confederacy of Dunces. But what you will find is the key to unlocking something we, as human beings, strive and struggle for every day – understanding.

Peoples, cultures, nations impose narratives on other peoples, cultures, nations and, too often, the truth of identity gets lost along the way. But the narratives about ourselves, provided by we, ourselves – that’s where truth lives. Who are we, if not the stories we tell? If everyone travelled with a book in their hand – a true book that speaks with the voice of a place and a people – then I think we’d all be much better at the art of understanding.

So…yeah. That’s what Bookpacking means to me. Hope y’all like my blog!